


a lighthouse made of stars

by astrainclinant



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Developing Relationship, Falling In Love, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-26
Updated: 2018-07-26
Packaged: 2019-06-16 08:52:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15433419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astrainclinant/pseuds/astrainclinant
Summary: Shiro was a force of nature that caused the ground to shift beneath Keith's feet. There was no other explanation.





	a lighthouse made of stars

**Author's Note:**

> Two things: one, this is the first piece of fanfiction that I've written in two years, so what's up. Two, I haven't watched a single episode of VLD since season 2 for a great deal of reasons, and I don't exactly intend to pick up watching the show again. So if there are any canon errors in here, just ignore those. I'm literally going off of small snippets I've seen and word of mouth. At this point, you're probably wondering why the hell I bothered writing this, to which I can only say: I have no idea. The news about Shiro dropped and I found myself bit by the writing bug once more.
> 
> That being said, this fic shares some conceptual and narrative similarities to my other work, _the whole town's sleeping_ , because the actual concept is still the same. I wanted to write about Keith and Shiro falling in love again, but with the new information that we have. So you could consider this an updated version, I guess?
> 
> Anyways I wrote this all within a day and the only proofreading it got was from me, so enjoy!

Keith’s life began and ended with Takashi Shirogane.

Well, that’s not quite true. Keith’s life began with his father in a small house in the middle of nowhere, and they were happy. The absence of his mother took the shape of a knife in his heart and he held that knife close to him. He coveted it in the way that only a child could covet a shred of their mother long gone. But he was happy with his father. Keith’s life ended in some vague and uncertain future, for all that death seemed intent to plague him at strange moments.

But if it were possible to have different lives in the span of a singular lifespan, then he could surely say this: his physical life began with his parents and will end the day that his body will be lifeless, whether that will be floating in space or placed in the ground. His conscious life began with his father and will end in some amorphous future.

Those things are all certainties for all that they may be unsure. Those things are certainties in the way that this is a certainty: Keith’s life began and ended with Takashi Shirogane.

 

* * *

 

 

Everyone always called him _that troublemaker_. His father: with affection. Many of the rest: with derision. As if it were a curse on his name, to be _that troublemaker_.

Behavior issues, short tempered, quiet and withdrawn until provoked—people took a problem with it, so he took a problem with the rest of them. It’s as easy as that. It felt like society had turned their back on the orphan boy and the orphan boy resented the lot of them in return.

Unwarranted, in hindsight.

Regardless, by the time that Keith hit his teenage years he had a chip in his shoulder the size of a small mountain and it was growing larger with every passing day and he felt directionless. Strange, he supposed, for a teenager to feel so directionless, but there was always something unsettled inside of him. Twisting, twitching, twittering like a bird unable to decide where to land. He had pent up _energy_ and nowhere to put it.

Then, he met Shiro.

Takashi Shirogane, “Call me Shiro, please, I know that Takashi is a mouthful,” a then-cadet at the nearby Galaxy Garrison who had caught him peering covetously at the hover-cycle that he had parked in front of a small store had said, holding a small plastic bag. The moment that a hand had landed on his shoulder (Keith was rarely so unaware of his surroundings, even as a precocious thirteen year old) he had startled badly and attempted to take off, to no avail.

He had assumed that he was about to be in more trouble than he had ever been in before, but instead, Shiro’s face had been amused and considering and, strangely: gentle. It had been so unexpected that Keith practically felt the earth shift beneath his feet. Or maybe he had just stumbled.

Nonetheless, Shiro introduced himself and all Keith could manage to say in return was, “Takashi isn’t a mouthful,” with a touch of derision, less at the young man and more at the world at large, “it’s your name. People should say it.”

Shiro had blinked, surprised, before laughing warmly. “Then let’s say that I just prefer Shiro.”

He had, of course, asked about Keith’s interest in the vehicle and had been perfectly indulgent in answering the questions that Keith had, once he relinquished some of his defensiveness.

Time slipped and the sun shifted in the sky until Shiro glanced at his watch and gave an apologetic little smile. “Time for me to get back to the Garrison, can’t be gone for too long. I have her on loan after all,” there was something almost mischievous in his voice as he reached back and patted the vehicle lovingly. All Keith could do was nod tersely and step back as Shiro climbed onto the hover-cycle.

As it started up it occurred to him, in fits and starts, that he hadn’t told Shiro his name. He wasn’t certain what overcame him in that moment, but the next thing he knew, he was opening his mouth and saying, “Keith. My name is Keith,” with a mild air of embarrassment and discomfort.

Shiro glanced back at him as he was putting on his helmet and, though he had been smiling practically their entire conversation, even Keith could see the slight shift in it. Something more amicable, perhaps. “See you later, Keith.”

And he was off.

Keith had assumed, and rightfully so in his opinion, that he would never see Shiro again. The fact that the Garrison was nearby was neither here nor there: the man had to be busy, and it was as simple as that, in the end. Keith was just an orphan kid, and Shiro had responsibilities.

The fact that he was proven wrong had smarted, a bit. Particularly because Shiro seemed to seek him out a week and a half later. Or maybe that was just coincidence, considering the fact that their paths simply crossed.

Keith was one of the older kids at the home, and many of the employees had long since accepted the fact that he was independent to the extent of leaving on his own and refusing company in all shapes and forms. Given the fact that there were many other kids to tend to, they generally left him alone, which worked more than well enough for him.

In the end, the only company he liked, and wanted, was the stray German Shephard in town that had taken a liking to him a few years back.

Still, it was surprising to be walking through the small park in town, the dog following at his side, only to hear his name ring out. And it was furthermore surprising to look up and see Shiro waving at him, an affable smile on his face. Keith could feel the way that his face contorted from surprised to considering to something that laid in neutral territory.

They spoke again, another fairly lengthy conversation that twisted and wound its way around a general structure that began with Shiro cooing at the dog and Keith informing him that he didn’t name him, as the dog wasn’t _his_ and instead the dog was its own—well, dog. Shiro laughed at the explanation, whilst Keith colored slightly.

The dog took a shine to Shiro immediately, and Keith couldn’t help but think _traitor_ as his tongue lolled out and he happily accepted pats and strokes on his head and back.

This happened with enough frequency to consider it _regular_ , and after several months Keith simply had to ask why Shiro kept coming to this small town, because a few times could be coincidental and explained, but this many? There was no way.

“Well,” Shiro began, with his usual warmth, “this town is the only place near the Garrison that sells my favorite brand of soda,” he said, lifting the bag as if to prove his point. “I made it a habit a while back to get out here every few weeks or so to get a few for myself. Recently, though, I’ve just taken a liking to talking to you.”

“I don’t need you to _take me under your wing_ ,” Keith said, quick and sharp, frown pulling at his mouth.

“If it makes you feel better,” his tone had gone placating, here, shoulders rising and falling with a frustrating lack of defense, “I haven’t been actively trying to. You always have interesting things to say, and I like hearing them. And,” Shiro hesitated, “you seem lonely.”

“I’m not,” his eyes narrowed.

“I’m sure you aren’t,” Shiro said, and Keith began to open his mouth to say something here, as well, but he hurried on, “but I have really enjoyed talking to you. You’re insightful, clever, and funny. A good change from what I usually have to deal with at the Garrison.” Humored gleamed in his eyes and Keith couldn’t quite bring himself to continue his frustration.

At some point, between his breaths or in the space of a single blink or in the hesitation of his beating heart, he began to idolize Shiro. He didn’t know a better word for it, really. He began to care for him? Looked forward to seeing him? Keith liked Shiro, that much he was certain about, and that was unusual enough for him. To like someone as a person. How strange.

Then again, Keith was certain that there wasn’t a person in the world who didn’t like Takashi Shirogane. He had that way about him, that air about him, that aura about him. It was impossible to dislike him, for very long. Keith had tried.

Sometimes there were long pauses between their visits and other times they were frequent enough that he was seeing Shiro weekly, but Keith was fine either way. Most of the time, Shiro came alone, but sometimes he brought his boyfriend, Adam, who had a similar kindness about him that Shiro had, but it wasn’t quite so intense.

Keith liked him well enough. So, at some point, he liked two people in the entirety of the universe. A shocking occasion for all those who had ever come into contact with him.

Nonetheless, years melted away and soon he was peering at his fifteenth birthday from a six month distance and he had to make a choice.

However, let’s set the record straight: Keith didn’t enlist for _Shiro_. He didn’t join because he looked up to Shiro. He didn’t join for any of those reasons. That had been the first thing he said after telling Shiro of his intentions to join, in the pause of surprised silence.

What a single-mindedly idiotic reason for joining, in his opinion. _For_ someone. _Because_ of someone. Shiro had influenced his decision, to be certain, but not for that reason.

He was approaching his fifteenth birthday and he had to make a choice. He was the oldest kid at the home and taking up space and, though no one was going to openly proclaim it, it would be better for everyone involved if he either got adopted (there was a severely low chance of that) or if he found other lodgings. There were only so many options, really, and the Galaxy Garrison was the best of the lot, for all that Keith wasn’t enthused about the idea of enlisting.

The fact that Shiro was there was something of an influencing factor, but it was the only reason. Nor the primary one. For all that Keith came to care for Shiro, he wasn’t so shortsighted as to base life changing decisions on one person. Logic and pragmatism demanded a choice, and the choice was obvious, and softened by the fact that Shiro was a successful result of the system.

 When Shiro vouched for him, however, and when he and Adam showed up at the home to help him back up his meager belongings to move to the Garrison, he felt his heart twist and shake and settle. He was _moved_ , for lack of a better word, for lack of any ability to verbalize how he was _emotionally responding_ to the feeling of being cared for.

So, instead of saying anything at all, he let Adam ruffle his hair and allowed Shiro to half hug him, pressed close to his side, for a few moments longer than he normally did. He wasn’t certain of Adam grasped the significance of the action, though from the way that the lines of Shiro’s face softened, Shiro certainly understood.

 

* * *

 

 

When Keith couldn’t find the dog (not his dog, because he didn’t own the dog and he had no right to the dog) he didn’t pinpoint the fact that he was heartbroken, but he did allow Shiro to hug him properly.

Maybe he should’ve named the dog, after all.

 

* * *

 

 

Keith got three things within a week at the Garrison: a roommate (whose name he can’t remember), a uniform, and a reputation.

The fact that he’s a _troublemaker_ followed him like the plague and he couldn’t honestly bring himself to care beyond mild irritation at the way that people had already begun treating him. However, rather than dwelling on it, he forced himself to focus. Keith doesn’t do things by halves, as a rule, and throw himself into life at the Garrison the way that he threw himself into properly learning how to defend himself and the way that he threw himself into training the dog and learning his tells and the way that the threw himself into his schoolwork and otherwise.

He saw Shiro only slightly more frequently than he had when he didn’t live on the Garrison, due to their differing schedules and generally frenetic days, but it was undeniably nice to see Shiro in passing and have him smile before crowds and walls and doors parted them. It’s nice to see Adam, too, and it was nice to see their apartment and to spend time in it and to see how they actually live their life together.

There was something cozy and familiar and adoring in the way that Shiro and Adam conduct themselves and Keith found it intriguing inasmuch as he found it embarrassing to watch them when they’re being sweet on each other, if only because affection made him uncomfortable, even now. He wasn’t in their space overly often, but enough that they designated him a mug and a place on their couch and he felt welcome there.

Those, however, were the spaces in between his new life. Slots that he peered through and could occasionally slip through, like a specter. His new life consisted of lessons and simulations and classrooms and classrooms and classrooms. And the class, itself.

Keith excelled, with frank ease. Combat, piloting, the whole lot of it.

Teachers began to compare him to Shiro, who had exceled similarly all those years ago, almost immediately, and Keith didn’t outwardly react, but he certainly took pride in it. His peers began to regard him with a mixture of awe and intense dislike. To the extent that some tried to give him trouble, but after he floored the first duo who attempted to accost him, no one tried again.

The punishment had been worth it, if you asked him.

“You know, it’s generally not seen as a good thing to get into fights with your classmates,” Shiro had said, leaning on a bannister over where Keith had been scrubbing the floor on his hands and knees. His brow was raised and there was a significant lack of a smile on his face, but there was a significant glimmer of amusement in his eyes.

“I think people call it _establishing your dominance_ ,” Keith said coolly, to which Shiro practically barked a laugh.

He sobered quickly, however, and walked down the stairs and seated himself on the floor near Keith, legs stretching out, uniform creasing. “They let you off with a warning this time, because the higher ups like the results that you’re getting, and you haven’t gotten in trouble yet.”

Keith rolled his eyes at length, scrubbing particularly hard at the floor, “Yeah, don’t get into fights, I know.”

“Keith,” Shiro said, with all the patience in the world, “I know you don’t go looking for trouble, but you need to be careful.”

“I don’t need you to _protect me_ ,” he couldn’t quite keep the ire out of his voice, and stubbornly didn’t look at Shiro.

“Believe me, I know,” Shiro said, and he didn’t sound placating. He didn’t sound as if he were simply trying to appease Keith, as if he were an angry and rabid animal. He simply said it as if it were a fact, and that gave Keith pause. “I’m saying this because I care about you, Keith, and because, while I know the Garrison wouldn’t have been your first choice, you have so much potential. Beyond just your test results,” he said, waving his hand as Keith moved to speak again. “Trust me, I tend to know about this stuff.”

Keith had paused in his cleaning and peered over at Shiro, straightening slowly as he spoke. He knew, of course, that Shiro cared about him—there wouldn’t have been a reason to practically go out of his way to visit Keith, otherwise. Shiro had verbalized it before, even. This wasn’t a surprise, in the end. But voicing his belief in Keith? That was new. Voicing his belief beyond simply saying that he was certain Keith would do well at the Garrison.

Something eerily similar to happiness intertwined with pride flared in his chest.

“One day you’ll even surpass me, I think,” Shiro said, teeth flashing at he smiled and Keith honestly wasn’t sure if Shiro was teasing or if he was being serious.

“It’s hard to surpass a _legend_ ,” Keith said with levity, and Shiro laughed because he knew that he was making fun of him. The fact that a great deal of people at the Garrison regarded Shiro as a legend, a result that should have been possible made possible, made the man somewhat uncomfortable. Though, not enough that Keith (and Adam) didn’t take advantage of some teasing every now and then.

“I should write you up for insubordination, cadet,” Shiro said as he pushed himself up into a standing position, giving Keith a faux-stern look. “Back to cleaning, before I assign you several hours more of cleaning. Maybe I should, anyways, because I’m fairly sure that your hair is against code.”

Keith smiled, a bit lopsided, though his eyes rolled again when Shiro tousled his hair. “Sir, yes, sir,” he said wryly.

“God, don’t say that again, that’s just weird coming from you,” Shiro’s nose wrinkled, rather overdramatically, mirth shining in his eyes. His face smoothed once more, becoming kind and considering and handsome again, “Be careful, Keith.”

The words of warning were reasonable, in the grand scheme of things, though Keith didn’t get into any other altercations after that. Instead, he continued to excel and ignored the envy of some of his peers and more aggressively ignored the ones who attempted to fawn over him. It didn’t really matter, in the end. He was assigned to a trio but didn’t care much one way or another who they were. He knew he was a good flier. Good enough to be entirely solo, especially for mere simulations. Out in the field, of course, he needed a team—but that was out there.

Adam found his lone wolf attitude somewhat amusing, as did Shiro, though the latter certainly expressed more concern over it, often reminding him that teamwork is part of being a good pilot, and that he should foster relationships now, rather than later. Keith understood the necessity of the warning, he did, but he still was never quite able to bring himself to _care_.

 

* * *

 

 

When Shiro told him about the disease that was sure to claim his life far too early. Keith nearly broke a cup and, rather petulantly, started to pepper him with questions regarding it. How it affected him. If there was a cure.

Shiro accepted these questions with an enviable grace and didn’t mention it when Keith initiated a hug with him, for once, and held on for several moments longer than was normal for him.

 

* * *

 

 

The glimmering moments of his time at the Garrison were when Shiro would snag him away for a few hours to drive around the dessert, occasionally racing each other. Sometimes Adam tagged along, and sometimes it was just the two of them, and Keith equally enjoyed both occasions. It was a chance for him to fly, after all.

Shiro praised his abilities and jokingly complained that he was going to get outperformed by a fifteen year old then by a sixteen year old frequently, to which Keith always rolled his eyes and shoved at his shoulder.

The fact that Shiro was there made the hours they spent together significant, of course, but it was more than even that:

It was the fact that flying felt like freedom and zipping as fast as he could over the sands felt like absolution and twisting around dangerous turns felt as if something were buoying him, lifting him up and out of his very own body and taking him somewhere else entirely. He loved flying. That much was for certain.

 

* * *

 

 

Several months before turning seventeen, rumors started to go around about Shiro being selected for the Kerberos mission. It was an honor, to say the least, for a pilot that young to be chosen for a mission that was so important, and Keith was reasonably certain that the rumors were true. After all, the Garrison considered Shiro to be one of their shining stars—utilizing him for something so significant was only natural.

Days dripped by and then weeks without a sign of Shiro around the base, which wasn’t strange in and of itself. The strange part was Keith not being forewarned of his absence, though he didn’t pay it much mind. He saw Adam from time to time, but every time he tried to catch his gaze, Adam seemed determined not to notice him.

A part of Keith, and a significant part at that, wanted to ask Adam what was going on. Demand, really. However, for all that Keith liked Adam as a person, they weren’t nearly close enough to warrant that sort of behavior. And so he waited.

It turns out that it was announced before Shiro had any clear inclination to tell him personally. A televised announcement, with the pictures of those going on the mission shown with their names, bold and blaring and pronounced, and it seemed that the whole of the base _cheered_ when the news came. As if the walls shifted and the floors bounced and the ceilings grew higher and then lower and Keith—

Keith couldn’t quite bring himself to celebrate with the rest.

There was always that sense of otherness that he had. That sense of not quite fitting with the rest. Of feeling as if he were a puzzle piece from another set, never meant to fit in with the rest. Teenage melodrama at its finest, if you were to ask him, an aspect of his personality and inner world that was utterly pointless, but in this? In this he felt worlds away.

If pressed, he supposed that he could also admit that he felt hurt that Shiro hadn’t confided this in him.

He made his way to Shiro and Adam’s apartment soon after without truly thinking about it and landed himself on their doorstep, knocking before his brain could tell him otherwise. There was shuffling within and Shiro answered the door within ten minutes, peering down at him. He looked more exhausted than ever before, and concern began to drip in the chasm of his chest.

“Keith,” Shiro said, a clear streak of surprise in his voice before sorrow took hold, “god, Keith. I’m so sorry—so much has been happening that I never managed to tell you—”

“No, it’s okay,” Keith said, concern coloring him. “I guess congratulations are in order, right?”

“Something like that,” Shiro said with a ghost of a smile that looked far too pained and words that sounded far too bitter.

“Shiro,” Keith began to frown, stepping closer to his friend, eyebrows drawing together. Frustration began to pull at his guts as he struggled to find the proper words to say, unable, as always, to empathize properly.

“Adam and I broke up,” Shiro said abruptly, and it seemed so very out of place and jagged in the space of this conversation that Keith was bewildered by it, and it must have been evident on his expression because Shiro smiled wanly and stepped back, allowing Keith to walk into the apartment.

It was the same apartment as it had been for the past year, since he had first walked into it, but it was different at the same time. It took a moment for Keith to recognize the differences, and the moment he did it was impossible not to notice. A lot of the pictures were gone, pictures of Adam and Shiro and of Adam’s family. Some of the other wall hangings were gone. The vase that never once held a flower and was kind of tacky but in a charming way that sat next to their TV was gone. The doormat was gone. The perpetual and small pile of dishes in the sink was gone. Some of the books were gone. The apartment, suddenly, seemed half empty, whereas it had once been full of life. A life. A shared life.

The door closed behind him with a small noise and Keith moved to sit on the couch as he always did, still peering around and cataloguing all of the changes. Shiro was watching him, he could tell, even as he moved into the kitchen to grab them both something to drink.

Keith was considering the absence of the small cat statue when Shiro sat down and handed him a bottle of water and they both sat in silence for a minute.

“Adam—he, uh. Well, we broke it off a little bit before I accepted the pilot position on the Kerberos mission,” Shiro said quietly, his thumb tracing the rim of the bottle of his favorite drink he had grabbed. “When I got the offer, we talked about what would happen if I accepted, and he told me that if I did he wasn’t sure if he could stay with me.”

“What?” Keith said, disbelief clear in his voice. Adam had always been kind and loving and devoted, for all that Keith wasn’t overly familiar with him. Anger tore through him, flaring hot and poisonous and the water bottle in his hand creaked as his eyes darted towards the door.

Shiro, as if sensing precisely what Keith was contemplating, put a hand on his shoulder and shook his head. “Keith, you have to understand—Adam and I talked a lot before he came to that conclusion. He didn’t, and wouldn’t, say that sort of thing lightly, we both know that. In the end, he knew that I was determined to accept this mission, and he felt that I was putting it before him, and chose to break it off with me.”

“But,” Keith said, almost spluttering in his haze of anger, “it’s your life! It’s your decision! You—you love him and he—shouldn’t he be more understanding?”

“You know about my illness,” Shiro said, squeezing Keith’s shoulder before removing his hand completely and picking at the bottle label, instead. “About how I probably don’t have long to live.”

Something in Keith deflated at these words, and the dots began to connect in spite of the rage that he was feeling. “He wanted to spend the rest of your years with you,” he said, voice still heated for all that it was beginning to dull. Adam and Shiro wanted to get married, he knew that. “But you—you didn’t.”

“I did,” Shiro said, gentle, but firm. “I did want to, but this mission is an opportunity that I can’t refuse.”

“I know,” Keith said immediately, because he _did_. Of course it was something that Shiro couldn’t say no to. It wasn’t something that anyone in their right mind could say no to. Shiro slanted a weak smile at him, and Keith attempted to smile in return.

“Kerberos is meant to be a long term assignment,” Shiro went on, the label starting to peel away from the bottle. “I didn’t want to have to make Adam wait for me. Not if there was a chance that I wouldn’t even come back.”

“Don’t say shit like that,” Keith said with sudden severity in his voice. “You’ll come back, of course you will.”

“Keith,” Shiro said, and his tone had gone placating, the way that he hated. “I’m happy that you believe in me, but let’s be realistic here.”

He pressed his lips together tight, but the half-pleading look on Shiro’s face made him relent. “Shiro, I—” yet he was at a loss for words.

“It’s okay,” Shiro said, smiling more genuinely now, for all that there was still sadness dragging at the lines of his face. “I chose this, because I wanted to. Because I felt like I needed to. It’s as simple as that.”

There were no words to say to that, really. Nothing to say at all. Nothing that occurred to Keith, that is, and in lack of anything substantial to say that wasn’t a waste of breath, he shifted towards Shiro, instead. Their shoulders pressed together on this familiar couch in this familiar room that was starkly unfamiliar at the same time: the only offering of comfort he could give.

The line of Shiro was stiff against his side for a moment before, in an earth shattering moment which Keith found that he resented and coveted in strange turns, he seemed to shudder and deflate, pressing more firmly against Keith’s side. His head seemed to tip and find its resting place atop Keith’s and he allowed it, for lack of any other options and for the simple reason that he wanted to. He wanted to offer comfort to one of his only friends in the world. He wanted to offer a shoulder to lean on.

He wanted to say _I’m here for you_ and _I believe in you_ and _I’ll always support you_ but the words seemed to tangle in his throat and, instead, his tense muscles relaxed and he hoped that that said it well enough for him.

 

* * *

 

 

Keith hugged Shiro goodbye privately before he left for the final preparations. Melancholy dipped from the pair of them and Keith resented the idea that this may be the last time that he ever saw Shiro, but he knew that it was true. He’s a realist at his core, and he knew very well that within the time that he’s in space, Shiro may pass away, merely due to the cruelty of the universe. So he hugged him, more tightly than he ever had before, and hung on as long as Shiro hung onto him. The embrace only broke when Shiro patted Keith on the back graspingly once, and then twice, and their gazes caught as they parted.

“Take care of yourself,” Shiro said, holding onto Keith’s shoulders tightly. “Don’t get into too much trouble.”

“Shouldn’t I be saying that to you?” Keith said with a dryness that he didn’t quite feel.

“Maybe,” Shiro said with a wry smile. “But do me a favor, okay? Never forget that I always believe in you, and I’m always on your side, even when I’m not here. You have so much potential that you haven’t even reached yet, and I hope more than anything that I’ll be able to see how much you’ve grown, one day.”

Keith’s throat seemed to tighten, but he nodded firmly, and they hugged again, tightly.

 _I’ll always believe in you, too_ , he didn’t say. _So you better come back_.

 

* * *

 

 

When news comes that everyone on the Kerberos mission is assumed to be dead Keith may have blacked out for a good hour or two, but it’s more that everything goes hazy behind his fury and he practically attacks one of the higher ups because _Shiro can’t be dead Shiro isn’t dead it wasn’t a fucking piloting error you’re using him as a scapegoat look harder because he isn’t dead_.

Regardless, he’s handed a severe dismissal in the aftermath and packed up his meager belongings alone until the door to his dorm slid open and he whipped around and saw red again because Adam is standing in the doorway, looking determined.

“What the _fuck_ do you—” he began.

“Keith, Takashi is dead,” Adam said, and there’s a wetness to his eyes, Keith realized.

“No he isn’t,” Keith was close to shouting, at this point. It felt as if he were mere moments away from a genuine explosion, from scattering his being across this dingy and impersonal room that had never been his but was his but wasn’t his any longer.

“He’s _dead_ ,” Adam was close to shouting now, too. “My grief is the same as yours, but you have to accept that he’s not coming back!”

“You left him,” Keith said with clear anger in his voice, shoving his sheathed knife into his pocket with more aggression than the action truly warranted. “You left him when he needed you, of course you don’t think he’s alive anymore. The moment he accepted the mission he was as good as dead to you.”

There was a moment of tense, shocked silence, and when Keith looked at Adam again, there were tears slipping down his face. “I love him,” Adam said quietly, despair clear in every line of his body, in every lilt of his voice. “I wanted to spend the rest of my life with him. I want nothing more than for him to be alive, and here, and in my arms, but he’s dead, Keith. If you don’t accept that then you’re just going to keep going down this awful path you’ve put yourself on.”

“Shut up,” Keith said severely, the tears not moving him from his righteous anger. “I _know_ that he’s alive, even if you and the rest of the world don’t believe me.” He stalked forward, intent on barreling Adam over if he didn’t move for him.

“Takashi wouldn’t have wanted this for you,” Adam said, low and choked and staring at Keith as if he had just committed and unforgivable travesty. “He never would have wanted you to throw away your life like this.”

Keith stopped abruptly at these words, standing closer to Adam than he had in ages, staring at him with something that was tremulously close to hatred. “Shiro believed in me, even when no one else did. I’ll be damned before I don’t believe in him, too.”

He walked out of the Garrison without looking back once, stealing a bike on his way.

 

* * *

 

 

It took some time, given his hazy memories, but he eventually found his old home that he had lived in with his father all those years ago on the hover-bike that he stole. It was dusty and unlived in but still standing the test of time and he walked through its small rooms, remembering as he went, before stopping in the middle of the main room and staring out of the window and.

And he lowered himself heavily onto the couch, leaned his head into his hands, and began to cry.

 

* * *

 

 

He shifted and twisted between the steadfast belief that Shiro was alive and the all-consuming grief that he was dead and confused the two, at times.

 

* * *

 

 

This was the thing: Shiro had been a steady constant in his life for five years and had been the only person in the entirety of the universe who seemed to look at Keith and accept him for who he was while at the same time working alongside him to make him a better version of himself. Shiro looked at him like he mattered, and that wasn’t nothing. That was something, certainly. No one else ever looked at Keith like he _mattered_. Keith cared for him in a way that he cared for no one else due to the circumstances of their relationship in the grand scheme of his life.

In the end, the list of people he truly cared for and loved was two people long. Two and a half, perhaps, if you counted the ghost of his mother as a part of it all, though he couldn’t remember her and half the time resented her for her absence. Three, actually, if you wanted to add in the dog that he had never named as another part.

He loved Shiro in an unwavering and unquestionable way and the loss of him wasn’t knife shaped in his heart and it wasn’t the way he pressed his hands together sometimes as if he could feel his father holding his hand and it wasn’t looking behind himself expecting to see the dog there unfailingly. No, it wasn’t like any of those things. It was like losing a limb, a part of himself, and if he were the type to think it, it was rather like the loss of his soul. Or part of it. Half of it, at least.

Love gave way to anger gave way to sadness gave way to a determination that bordered on obsession and he never truly believed that Shiro was gone, even in the weak moments when he thought that, perhaps, he was dead. Because Shiro was beside him, in one way or another. He was there, supporting him, even in the moments that Keith knew that Shiro would be disappointed.

 

* * *

 

 

Finding Shiro was nothing short of a miracle that he capitalized on, regardless of the irritating peanut gallery that decided to accompany him. Finding him was an absolution from the days and weeks and months spent ruminating and guilty and searching and screaming internally at the universe for doing such an awful thing to a good person. Finding Shiro settled something in him, right beside his heart, for all that it seemed to knock a few other things loose along the way.

Flying into space in a robotic lion was, also, nothing short of a miracle. However, in the bigger picture, Shiro returning to him was far more of a miracle than this, given that he had been chasing after this amorphous notion for months for lack of anything better to do with himself.

And the rest of it—well, that wasn’t really a miracle, was it? It was just sheer ridiculousness that quickly became their lives.

 

* * *

 

 

The Red Lion spoke to him with ease and he piloted her with ease and he essentially merged with her with ease. They were a pair, practically made to function as a unit, for all that she had been stubborn in the beginning. Piloting the Red Lion was as easy as breathing.

Yet, the Black Lion reached for him as well. Not so strongly, and not so blatantly, but he could feel her pull as well. He imagined, for shreds at a time, that it was merely as a result of his connection with Shiro that had, for all that time had worn at it, remained between them, an unspoken line of support and protection. Keith wanted nothing more than to protect Shiro half the time, and he imagined that she agreed with him steadfastly.

To be able to pilot her truly was something else entirely. It made him feel disquiet to his core, a strange discomfort that he remained uncertain whether or not he could bring himself to accept. He was no leader—Shiro may believe in him, but Keith had always been a realist.

He was no leader, but he was determined to finally seek out what had always, subconsciously, set him apart. What had made him feel like a puzzle piece that didn’t fit. Even if it meant leaving Shiro again.

Giving up the Black Lion was as easy as breathing. It was looking at Shiro and saying _this is meant for you_ and _I believe in you_ and  _I can’t stand beside you yet_  and something like _I love you_.

 

* * *

 

 

The Blade of Marmora took him in and trained him with all the intensity that he expected of them. He had come looking for answers about his heritage, after all. He hadn’t come to find a home or a place of belonging. He didn’t belong here nor there nor anywhere in all the universe, perhaps, for all that he was half-Galran and half-human. He threw himself into training with the singlemindedness that he gave to everything else in his life, as well.

Meeting his mother hadn’t been part of the plan, to say the least.

It’s a strange flurry of anger and shock that warped into a jagged understanding that shifted into something softer and quieter during their time in the Quantum Abyss and he grows to know her and understand her and—love her, in the end. Or close to it. Forgive her, for leaving him. For leaving his father.

The raw edges of his anger and frustration towards the whole of existence seemed to gentle and he learned and grew and understood as the days slipped by and the Abyss gifted him with a new wolf that reminds him of the dog in a way that’s so shocking that it’s nearly painful, at first. Silly, he supposed, to hurt over a creature that he had never named and whose fate remained unknown to him. Then again, he’s a realist, wasn’t he?

The wolf became the thing in the universe that was more his than its anything else and in some ways, she’s the first thing that’s well and truly _his_. His mother asked after her name but Keith remained at a loss and continued to simply call her Wolf, for lack of anything better.

In the spaces in between he found himself thinking of Shiro, whenever there was a slip of silence, whenever he was staring up into the sky, whenever he was wondering about Voltron and the rest of them. They have, against all odds, slipped into the category of people which he cared for. Even Lance. But he found himself thinking of Shiro most often, even at the strangest moments whilst exploring and bonding with his mother.

It occurred to him, belatedly, that he missed Shiro in a way so similar to his prior grief that it’s nearly irrational. Missing him like a limb, as if he partly believed him dead again, though Shiro was alive and well. Or had been, when Keith last saw him. How long had it been? A year? Two years? How time changed him. He could feel how he had changed. It was palpable. The anger had worn away to something determined but steady and he couldn’t help but wonder if Shiro would be proud of him for how far he had come. He would be, he was certain.

Keith wanted to see Shiro again. Soon, preferably. As soon as possible.

The aching in his chest was getting unbearable.

 

* * *

 

 

He got his wish, arguably in the cruelest way possible.

Fighting Shiro, for all that he wasn’t truly Shiro, had been difficult enough on its own. It had felt unnatural. Not right. So wrong that it made his skin crawl. Then finding the _real_ Shiro and refusing to let him go and refusing to leave him behind and refusing to lose him again. Never again. Never again would he lose Shiro. Never again would the universe take him. Twice was _enough_. Keith wouldn’t allow it. He’d very well tear down the sky, the heavens, the stars before he’d let it happen again.

He’d fight God, if they were a true presence in the universe. He’d fight a whole pantheon, if he had to: bare handed and bare footed with only his clothes on his back or perhaps even less.

A fight he’d win through sheer determination.

It was tiring, living without a part of yourself. And don’t be fooled. Shiro was a part of him, as intrinsic as his heart. As sure as the movements of the planets. He wasn’t sure when Shiro had settled a place inside of him—was it when he was a teenager? Was it in the moments of unquestionable support? Was it when Shiro was there, steadfast and ready? Was it when Shiro had disappeared from the face of this galaxy? Was it when he returned to him? When had it happened? When had it changed?

It didn’t matter, though. It didn’t matter, because it was a fact the way that gravity was a fact. The when and the how didn’t matter.

What mattered was this: he had been ready to die. Prepared to die. Willing to die.

“I love you,” he had said, because it was an unshakable truth.

 

* * *

 

 

He cradled Shiro close in the aftermath and refused to relinquish his hold on him, eyes roaming over familiar features and unfamiliar pure white hair repeatedly, holding him close, as if Shiro would slip away once more.

Later, in safer and more insulated surroundings, Shiro slept on while Keith sat beside him, messing with his mother’s blade. An old and worn habit that didn’t quite go away over the two years that he spent in the Quantum Abyss. His eyes focused on the blade and on Shiro and on Wolf in turns, and he found himself entirely unwilling to leave Shiro’s side. Not that it was surprising in any way.

Shiro woke thrice before remaining conscious for more than shreds of moments at a time and Keith had maintained his vigil determinedly throughout it all, not moving from his seat except to pace the room every now and then. Wolf laid at his feet, watching Shiro as often as Keith found himself watching him. She was lying on his right foot. He was fairly certain that was her own form of comfort.

“Keith,” Shiro said, quiet and brittle and Keith moved to pour him a cup of water.

His hand shook when he tried to accept the cup and concern was a monster without shape in Keith’s chest and it formed into a blade, cutting at his lungs and taking his breath away. Shiro seemed to smile, wry, and Keith moved to sit on the bed, helping Shiro sit up. He tipped the cup and helped him drink, watching closely. Wolf was sitting up, staring at Shiro intently.

“Thank you,” Shiro said, voice clearer as Keith set the cup on the table once more. They watched each other for a long moment, and then another. “You got another dog.”

“She’s a space wolf,” Keith said.

The tiredness on Shiro’s face gave way to bemusement, for all that exhaustion lingered around the edges. “Does she have a name?”

“Wolf.”

Shiro laughed, quietly, and Keith felt another stab of worry. “You should give her a name. She’s yours, after all.”

“Yurak, then.” The eyebrow Shiro raised made Keith frown. “My—my mom wanted to name me Yurak. Apparently.”

“That’s your name,” Shiro said, sounding entirely reasonable. “She should have her own name, shouldn’t she?”

Wolf made a quiet noise and Keith glanced at her. Their eyes met before she hopped onto the bed gracefully, curling her body just beside Shiro’s knees. “Wolf, no,” Keith said sternly. She looked at him balefully—there was no other way to describe it.

“No, it’s okay,” Shiro said, and the bemusement had disappeared from his face, leaving something worn in its place.

Keith considered him, before moving to get up, “I’m gonna go get you some food.”

“No,” Shiro said, abrupt and immediate and Keith looked at him, one foot on the floor and the other folded beneath him. Shiro was exhausted, looked mere moments away from passing out again, but there was something tender and raw in his expression. In his eyes. Keith’s chest hurt. “No, I’m not hungry. Just stay with me, okay?”

“Of course,” Keith said after a beat, and he helped Shiro lie down again, though he remained sitting up in the bed. He slid his feet beneath Wolf and watched as Shiro closed his eyes and fell into the embrace of sleep once more. “I’d never leave you,” he said, belated and only to himself and Wolf.

He stayed there for a long while, before slipping back into the chair again.

 

* * *

 

 

Even at his team’s and mother’s insistence, he barely moved from Shiro’s side. Something uncomfortable knifed through his stomach whenever Shiro wasn’t in his line of sight—irrational, without a doubt, but personally he thought it was understandable, given the fact that Shiro died. And came back. But he did die, so this was a perfectly reasonable dose of paranoia.

Also, given the fact that Keith had effectively been separated from Shiro for going on five years, between Kerberos and his death and his own time in the Quantum Abyss, he was justified. He was. Even if there were some months in between where he had Shiro back.

A week on, Shiro insisted that Keith, at the very least, sleep on the bed as well, given the fact that sleeping upright in a chair wasn’t comfortable for anyone. Keith relented, and they began to sleep side by side, Shiro’s presence beside him as he slept becoming something normal quickly thereafter.

Shiro gained strength back at a reasonable speed and they took to walking around the castle together at least twice a day. Sometimes only the two of them and Wolf, sometimes with others in tow. They talked about nothing and everything and he filled Shiro in about his time with the Blade of Marmora and sometimes they simply walked in silence, Keith watching Shiro out of the corner of his eye.

There was something that wasn’t quite peace but wasn’t quite anything else that had settled over all of the inhabitants of the Castle. They had Shiro back, and what was going to happen next could be decided in a little bit. After Shiro was more whole. Keith took advantage of it, really, by refusing to leave his side. _Just stay with me_ , he had requested.

Shiro reached out to touch him again when they stood side by side, staring out a large window at the stars and the distant planetary bodies. It didn’t startle Keith, who always found that defensive part of himself relaxed when he was near Shiro. Even if that defensiveness had worn away over his time with his mother, it remained in part. But never around Shiro.

It was a skim of his fingers against Keith’s cheek, tracing the scar that stretched over his jaw. Fingers and then thumb and his touch was something warm and real and solid and _alive_ , and Keith turned his face into the touch, if only to look at Shiro again. Their eyes met, and there was something harrowingly close to anguish on his face. Keith didn’t want Shiro to look like that. Keith didn’t want Shiro to look at him like that.

A tremulous smile stole at his mouth, “Did I ever thank you for saving me again?”

“Sort of,” Keith said, and automatic response. It had been implied, after all.

“You’ve come so far, Keith—I always said that you’d surpass me one day,” Shiro said it with humor, but the softness in his eyes made something just behind his heart ache sharply. Another knife, he supposed.

“Only because of you,” Keith said, mouth twisting into a frown. “You always believed in me and supported me—I wouldn’t be who I was today without you.” A barefaced truth that nearly rubbed his throat raw.

“Maybe,” Shiro turned indulgent, his smile deepening. “But you did all the work yourself.”

“Because I wanted to be able to stand beside you,” Keith said, reaching up and gripping onto Shiro’s wrist, holding onto it as if it were an anchor. His voice was clear and strong and refused to leave room for doubt, “Because I wanted to be your equal.”

“You’ve always been my equal, Keith.”

“No, I haven’t. You always treated me as your equal, but I wanted to be a better version of myself. I wanted to become how you always seemed to see me. I wasn’t ready to lead, before, but now I am.” He had always wanted to stand beside Shiro. Had always wanted to reach him, to stand next to him, to help him. Shiro had been a benchmark to reach but, even more than that, he had looked at Keith like he had mattered and had believed in him from the very start, without fail, and Keith had always wanted to live up to those beliefs. Shiro made him want to live up to those beliefs.

Shiro had always seemed so lonely, placed on a pedestal and heralded as the best and the brightest. Keith had looked at him and wondered, albeit abstractly, if it was lonely. If he was alone. And Keith never wanted Shiro to be lonely, or anguished, or alone. He had never wanted to surpass Shiro. He simply wanted to stand beside him.

Moments stretched and Shiro traced the edge of Keith’s scar with his thumb and his expression shifted from warmth to something else. Something new. As if he were looking at a supernova for the first time and was in awe of it and surprised by it. Exhaustion remained, an obsessive shadow, but the tense line of his brow softened and his eyes brightened and the curve of his mouth gentled. Keith barely said a thing, but he knew Shiro understood. They never needed many words to understand each other, really.

Keith changed for himself, first and foremost, but in some ways it was for Shiro, too. He had imagined, privately, that Shiro had known that—now, he knows that they’re both aware.

“Thank you,” Shiro said, hushed and genuine and adoring.

 

* * *

 

 

When Shiro was sleeping regular hours again, a new prosthetic arm was ready for him. Made and developed by Pidge and Coran and Hunk: pure Altean tech. Something in Keith’s gut seemed to settle at the remembrance that Shiro would no longer physically carry a reminder of his time as a prisoner, attached to his person. The memories were one thing; an arm was another.

Shiro accepted it with a thankful smile and thankful words and Keith stayed in the room with him as the arm was attached and linked and tested and recalibrated appropriately. Wolf was lying just outside the door. He trusted Pidge and Coran and Hunk the way that he trusted them all to watch his back, and he trusted them to have Shiro’s best interests at heart—he was important to all of them, after all. Trust, however, didn’t dull the intense paranoia and desire to not see Shiro in pain. He had dealt with enough pain. Was still dealing with pain.

He could see it with every movement that Shiro made, with every time he rose from bed, with every time he awoke from a nightmare. There was a tightness at the corners of his eyes, a stiffness at his shoulders, the unavoidable clenching of his fists at random moments. Was it the disease? Was it the return to a body? Was it something else entirely?

Keith watched, and catalogued. He had always watched and seen and understood, when it came to the masses. Especially when it came to Shiro. He rarely reached out, lest it was a night where Shiro was struggling with a nightmare and restless and terrified, but Keith was determined to remind Shiro that he wasn’t alone. That Keith was there for him.

“You don’t have to spend every moment with me, you know,” Shiro said, as he flexed his new arm, testing it and looking somewhat in awe.

“I want to,” Keith said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“I’m not going anywhere, Keith,” Shiro said, meeting his eyes dead on and the words unexpectedly gutted him. Cut right to the root of him. Nailed it right in the bullseye. Losing Shiro once had been bad enough. Twice had been almost more than he could handle. Three times? His paranoia was warranted. No one could convince him otherwise.

But he knew that there were times when he looked at Shiro and reached out to him, half afraid that he wasn’t there or that he was going to slip away once more. Death comes for them all, and he had known for years that Shiro’s years were numbered and the number was getting distressingly lower, but he had always understood the choices that Shiro made and the way that he lived his life and Keith never wanted to stop him. He wanted to protect him.

How do you protect someone when they’re practically a galaxy away? Galaxies away? In another plane of existence? Dead? You can’t. It’s impossible. When he was younger, he had known and understood that he couldn’t protect Shiro. But now, four years later for himself—or was it five, now?—he could protect Shiro. He was more capable than he had once been.

Logically, there was nothing to protect Shiro from inside of the Castle. He knew that. But that didn’t change the fact that he was half terrified that Shiro would leave again, more permanently than last time, and there wouldn’t be a way to get him back.

That didn’t change the fact that there were times when Shiro looked so haunted that Keith was half-sure that he would merely slip away before his eyes. Not physically, no. And perhaps that was worse.

“I’m making up for lost time,” Keith said, finally, and for all that time he didn’t look away from Shiro, and Shiro didn’t look away from him. “It’s been four years, for me.”

“Krolia,” Shiro began.

“I spent two years with her,” he said. “She understands. And she has her own stuff. I’m needed here,” the words were woefully wanting and he frowned for a moment, trying to grapple with language and feelings and the thud of his heart. He was beginning to suspect that it wasn’t the alien part of himself that struggled with this sort of stuff. It was just an aspect of his personality: surprise, surprise. Finally he managed to say, “I want to be here, with you.” As if that encompassed everything.

Shiro stared at him for several long moments before something in his expression shifted and he stretched out his human arm and Keith stepped close, allowing himself to be pulled into a hug. “You keep saving me, you know.”

The line of Shiro’s body was familiar after nights spent sleeping beside each other and being near him at all times physically possible. They pressed against each other and Keith didn’t like to think that he was _clinging_ , but he held on. Tight.

“Yeah, well,” Keith said, slightly muffled against Shiro’s shoulder and feeling abashed. “I’m returning the favor. We save each other.”

 

* * *

 

 

They charted a course to Earth. Keith remained mostly uncertain about returning to the planet, beyond the fact that it was a necessity thanks to the Galrans. Lance and Hunk and Pidge were happy, of course, but—

But everything that Keith considered _home_ , or as near as, wasn’t on earth, anymore. The remains of his childhood home, the remains of his father: those were things that anchored him there, in some ways. However, his mother wasn’t there and Shiro wasn’t there and there wasn’t anything of any emotional significance remaining on that planet. Those were facts.

Shiro agreed that they had to go to earth, that they had a responsibility to, and Keith could tell that there was a charged anticipation regarding it. Shiro still had people keeping him tied to earth, after all—his mother and father and sister and Adam.

Keith hadn’t forgotten about Adam, and he was sure that Shiro hadn’t either, but they never talked about it. Adam was a far off concept that Keith rarely paid mind to, if only because it wasn’t practical to think about the friend that he had once had. There were times when he wanted to ask Shiro about Adam, but he never did. It felt far too much like breaching something so intensely personal that even he, for all of his closeness with Shiro, had no right to.

It was only Keith that had no true reason to return to earth beyond their mission, in the end. Maybe if his father were still alive it would be different.

Nonetheless, he steadily began to spend less time constantly around Shiro, after a multitude of assurances from multiple people that he was fine. Keith was pragmatic and knew that Shiro didn’t literally need him at all times, and he had other responsibilities to tend to.

After all, it wasn’t like the path to earth was straightforward and simple.

The first time Voltron was required following Shiro’s return to them, Keith had been sitting with him in his room, Wolf at his feet. The alarm sounded and he stood immediately, and out of the corner of his eye he could see Shiro beginning to rise, before settling again. The movement struck him and he was frozen for several seconds.

“Shiro,” Keith had said, something which was a cousin to sorrow in his voice.

“Go,” Shiro said, an encouraging smile on his face. “I’ll help with Coran to coordinate.” Keith stared at him longer and Shiro laughed, almost self-deprecating. “I’m hardly in any state to pilot a Lion, Keith. It’s up to you to lead them.”

“I’ll come back soon,” Keith said, unthinkingly.

“I know,” Shiro’s smile shifted from encouraging to something else and Keith took off before he could look much further into it.

Lance spoke often about how excited he was to return to Earth, telling stories and recollections of his life and family and childhood to any non-human inhabitant of the Castle. Hunk was similar, and Pidge was seen talking excitedly to her brother more than usual. Even Shiro openly shared his relief at returning to Earth and seeing the others he cared about again.

Keith watched it from a sustained distance, physical and emotional. He was happy for them, conceptually, but couldn’t truly bring himself to be happy about it, himself. No one really remarked on it—they all knew that he had been an orphan before finding his mother, who wasn’t human in the least, and that he had no true ties to anyone. Well, Shiro, Lance, and Hunk knew, for certain. Shiro, for obvious reasons, while the latter two had been his classmates and had seen how far he distanced himself from the crowd.

 So no one mentioned it, and he didn't mention it in return.

 

* * *

 

 

“Allura and Coran think that they can extend my life,” Shiro said suddenly one day, when they were training together.

Keith’s eyes widened out of sheer surprise—he doubted that Shiro intended to keep his disability a secret, but he hadn’t been aware that he had been speaking about it with the others. He had thought, when they first started this adventure, that perhaps the technology that the Alteans have could’ve cured Shiro, but he never asked.

“They aren’t sure if they can cure me, exactly,” Shiro continued, smiling at the astonishment on Keith’s face, “but they seem confident that I have more than a year or two to live.”

He was quiet by nature and preferred not to speak if not required of him, but in this situation he merely found that he had no words to express what he was thinking. What he was feeling. Instead he stared at Shiro for a few moments longer, before stepping forward and hugging him tight. Shiro seemed to sigh into it, wrapping his arms around him, in return.

 _Thank god_ , Keith didn’t say. He knew that Shiro understood.

 

* * *

 

 

The fact that he wasn’t spending every possible moment with Shiro anymore lent itself to the fact that they didn’t sleep in the same room every night. Keith hadn’t been aware of how rapidly he grew used to the presence of Shiro sleeping beside him until he realized how strange it was to fall asleep alone. Wolf only helped so much, her presence comforting but not quite the same.

Some nights, he found himself wandering to Shiro’s room and letting himself in. Only on the nights when his mind refused to shut off. Only on the nights when there was cause to worry after Shiro based on his behavior through the day.

On those nights he slipped into Shiro’s room and climbed into his bed and fell asleep with fractionally more ease, Wolf following along all the while.

Shiro never directly addressed it, instead apparently choosing to accept it as another aspect of their life. Despise the lack of discussion about it, Keith was sure that there were nights when Shiro was thankful for his presence. When he would shake awake and reach for Keith in the darkness and latch onto his hand as if it were a raft in a storm.

 

* * *

 

 

Keith knew that the others talked about the way that he and Shiro were rarely seen without each other, though he never caught them at it. Rather, he caught them abruptly and loudly entering a topic of conversation, often instigated by Lance, that made no sense and confused the others, whenever they would walk into a room together. Or whenever Keith would walk into a room alone.

He didn’t care that they were talking about it, though. It didn’t matter, in the end.

 

* * *

 

 

Returning to Earth was a culture shock. Ironic, considering the fact that he had been born and raised on this planet, but it was still shocking all the same. Earth was unlike all the other planets that they had been to, humans were unlike aliens, and Keith was an invisible alien amongst them.

They landed near the Garrison for the sake of convenience and ease and presented themselves as required for _saviors of the universe_ , or whatever they were. There had been a ripple of shock at the sight of them all, the vast majority of them former students at this very base, and furthermore surprise when they deferred leadership to Allura and then Keith, in that order. They, being Iverson and other commanders at the base, had looked imploringly from Shiro to Keith and to the rest of them, but had said nothing.

Shiro hadn’t piloted since returning—though he had sat in Black, several times. Keith imagined that they were effectively having conversations between themselves.

The group of them were quarantined, which was inconvenient but understandable. They had, after all, landed from earth with a group of aliens and a practically unbelievable story to tell. And also, they proved that aliens existed in the universe.

Galra launching an attack cut their quarantine short, and trust was established, purely based on the fact that Voltron was the only reliable defense that Earth had.

Families were called and people flooded in but first and foremost among them was Adam, which was natural, given that Keith assumed he still lived on the base. The man had practically burst into the room hardly twenty minutes after they were given clearance to contact their families directly, looking shocked and pale and faintly ill. He had looked over all of them, gaze lingering on Keith before landing on Shiro and he launched himself at him, hugging him tight.

Shiro had seemed surprised, though not displeased, before returning the embrace and holding on.

Everyone in the room shifted and Keith returned to staring out of the window over the surrounding desert, and quiet conversation started again. His mother had met up with them again, shortly before landing on earth, and remained in the Castle for the time being. Keith could see it in the distance, standing tall and gleaming in the light of the setting sun.

The door slid open and then closed again and Keith knew without looking that Shiro and Adam had stepped out together, ostensibly to have a private conversation between themselves.

“Uh—” Lance coughed and Keith looked over at him, eyebrow raised. “So, who was that?”

It occurred to him, in a way that almost had him rolling his eyes at himself, that he was the only other person in the room who knew who Adam was, other than Matt, maybe. Shiro and Adam hadn’t kept their relationship a secret, but there wasn’t any reason for Lance and the others to have known about them. Strange, how Keith had simply assumed.

“That was Adam,” he said plainly. “He and Shiro were together, before the Kerberos mission.”

Astonishment rippled through the room and Keith returned to staring out of the window, in the direction of his childhood home. Whispers started again, more rapid and fervent than before, and he didn’t pay them any mind. Not even when he felt them glancing at him.

The room suddenly felt many times smaller than it had been, before.

 

* * *

 

 

He and his mother returned to the home that they had lived in together, at one point, a couple days later. The occasion should have been momentous, but Keith didn’t particularly feel either way about it—this was the place where he had grown up and had lived alongside his father, but without him it still simply felt empty. Krolia, he was sure, held the same sentiment.

They still walked through it together and recounted memories to each other, not quite filling in the gap that remained between them. The sort that could never be filled: the loss of a love and the loss of a father.

Hearing her talk was still worthwhile, though. To hear her memories of this place. Pointing out where he had taken his first steps, where she had first held him whilst he sobbed, her favorite spot to cradle him and rest in, where she and his father had first met. It was assurance that she had been there, once. That she remembered this place and cherished it, for all that it still felt empty.

It wasn’t a home, anymore, but it was theirs.

 

* * *

 

 

Adam cornered him after a requisite battle debrief. Cornered may be too strong a word for it, in truth, given the fact that he merely approached Keith and asked to speak with him. But all the same.

Keith followed him into an unoccupied office and leaned against the wall, arms crossed and eyes considering. Adam strode a few steps into the room before turning on the spot and staring at Keith in return.

Contrary to assumption, Keith didn’t hate nor resent Adam for anything that he had said before his departure from the Garrison, nor any of his actions beyond hurting Shiro. Adam hadn’t been wrong to say anything that he had said, though Shiro _had_ been alive, somewhere out there in the universe. Other than Keith, and Shiro’s family, Adam was the person who knew Shiro best in all of existence. Or, he had known Shiro best—the fact that they had all changed was unavoidable, given the things that they had gone through and the time that had passed.

Shiro wasn’t the man he had been before the Kerberos mission. His scar and arm and white hair were physical proof of that. But he wasn’t too different from him, either.

Silence reigned, heavy and thick, and Keith waited.

“I’m sorry, Keith,” Adam said in a rush, and Keith found himself surprised by the words and the genuine regret in his face. “The things that I said to you before you left—I shouldn’t have. You were grieving, and I doubt that I made it any better.”

“It’s fine,” Keith said stiffly, unable to quite relax and unsure how to approach this situation. “You weren’t _wrong_ , exactly. Other than about the fact that Shiro was alive.”

Adam smiled ruefully, though his face was still twisted with sadness. “I wanted to help you. I tried to reach you before you managed to get to Iverson’s office, because I knew that you were at risk to do something impulsive, but—well. We both know how that worked out.” Silence passed again. “I didn’t want you to do something you would regret, and I didn’t want you to go off on your own again.”

“Because Shiro wouldn’t have wanted that,” Keith said, as if it were a fact. And it was.

“Yes,” Adam nodded, but looked solemn, “but also because I cared about you. You were, and are, my friend, even if you and Takashi have always been closer to each other. You may have doubted that, and rightfully so, but that doesn’t change the fact that I cared about you and care about you still.”

Keith found himself dully surprised at this information, as well. His eyebrows rose and Adam laughed softly.

“Yeah, I figured you’d be surprised by that. You’re my friend Keith, honestly, and I’m sorry that I wasn’t there for you.”

“If I hadn’t left, none of this would’ve happened,” Keith shrugged slowly, still staring intently at Adam. “So it’s for the best that you didn’t stop me.”

“Really?” Adam tipped his head, looking dubious.

Leaving earth and forming Voltron had given Keith a purpose in this universe that he hadn’t had before. It had given Keith a way to find out more about himself and about his heritage. It had led him to his mother. It had led him back to Shiro, time and time again. So, yes. It was for the best.

And he couldn’t bring himself to regret a thing about that day.

 

* * *

 

 

“You should pilot her again,” it wasn’t the first time that he had found Shiro staring up at Black, and it likely wouldn’t be the last. Keith had been looking for him, and this had been the second place that he checked, after his room. The time that they spent together, alone, was shorter these days. They had responsibilities and a planet to protect and plans to make to, hopefully, end this battle with Galra once and for all. Not to mention the fact that Shiro had wanted to spend as much time among his family again as possible, and that the press had been doggedly attempting to get into contact with them.

Multiple presumably dead people abruptly returning to earth, confirming the existence of aliens, and piloting giant robotic lions was press worthy. Who would’ve thought?

Shiro didn’t shift nor start upon hearing Keith’s voice, “She and I understand each other, but I’m not sure about piloting her again. You’re the Paladin of the Black Lion now, after all.”

“We both are,” Keith said, and this conversation was familiar, given the fact that he had been encouraging Shiro to pilot again as frequently as possible. “She’s accepted both of us, you know that.”

Shiro hummed quietly, a smile playing at his mouth. Melancholy was woven around him tightly. “Well, we can hardly pilot her at the same time, can we? I’m more useful in the Castle, I think. I can watch all of your backs, here.”

Keith frowned deeply, and Shiro looked at him. The melancholy seemed to lift for a moment, and Shiro smiled that warm smile that he was so familiar with, but saw less now than he had before. The smile that had made Keith, begrudgingly and to himself alone at the time, admit that Shiro was a good person. Shiro stretched out his hand and Keith sighed, before taking it and allowing Shiro to lead him away from Black. They walked around the Castle together, traversing the familiar halls.

They had begun linking hands with some regularity not long before landing on earth. The contact was grounding and familiar and Keith appreciated it: a physical connection to Shiro.

“Have you met Rohan?” Shiro broke the amicable silence.

“Who?”

“Adam’s boyfriend.”

“What?” Keith was rarely so monosyllabic these days, unless he was messing with Lance, but he found himself so surprised that he defaulted to a singular word in an attempt to get it across. “Why would he—”

“We did break up, you know,” Shiro said this as if it were the most reasonable thing in the universe, and Keith narrowed his eyes. “It’s been nearly three years, Keith,” his tone became more soothing, suddenly, as if Keith were a wolf whose hackles had raised, “I hardly expected or wanted him to wait for me, especially since I was pronounced dead for most of that time.” Shiro looked at him and Keith wasn’t sure what his expression was, beyond potential outrage, but he squeezed his hand. As if attempting to reassure him. “I’m not hurt or heartbroken or anything,” Shiro smiled as if the concept was ridiculous, “I’m happy for him. Rohan’s really nice, you should meet him sometime.”

“But—”

“Keith,” Shiro said, pulling him close so that their shoulders were flush against each other and their hands tangled between their hips. “It’s okay, I’m happy for them.”

Truth be told, Keith wasn’t so sure if he should be happy for Adam and Roger or whatever his name was, if only out of caution for if it made Shiro upset. Thinking back on the past several days and weeks, however, Shiro’s behavior hadn’t obviously changed to reflect distress or heartbreak, and Keith reluctantly accepted it.

He did, however, watch Shiro far more closely than he had since allowing more distance between the two of them. Just in case.

 

* * *

 

 

Their plan, in the end, wasn’t particularly refined. But it worked well enough. One person or a pair slip in covertly whilst the others attack head-on. Easy enough, in theory, albeit exacerbated by the fact that Coran had been captured in an attempt to protect Allura, causing stress for the team. And the necessity for this sort of plan.

There was a natural argument regarding who would attempt to extract Coran. Shiro volunteered himself immediately, given his technical lack of a Lion, which the whole of them rejected immediately. No one was willing to lose Shiro again, even if only in concept. The last time that he had infiltrated a Galran ship alone, it hadn’t exactly ended well.

Keith settled it by putting his foot down and refusing to budge against the barrage of arguments against his decision. His mother volunteered to accompany him, and that seemed to settle the matter, though Shiro looked deeply unhappy by this turn of events.

“I’m the fastest out of everyone here,” Keith had said, firmness in his voice, “and I can access Galra tech way easier than you guys. Shiro can pilot the Black Lion and lead you, instead.”

In the end, it was logic that no one could actually argue with, considering the fact that everything he said was _true_ , and they all knew it.

Keith prepared in his own room, for all that he didn’t spend too much time in it. He donned his Blade of Marmora suit again, draped in dark colors well suited for stealth, his mother’s blade at his hip. When the door opened behind him, he didn’t need to look to know who it was.

“I should be the one going,” Shiro said, voice colored by frustration and a heavy dose of something else that Keith could only assume was worry. “You’re the Paladin of the Black Lion.”

“We both are,” Keith would repeat this fact again and again until Shiro got it, though it seemed that he never would. He turned to face Shiro, a steady and unsmiling expression on his face. “You can pilot her just as well as I can. Even better, maybe.” Shiro looked ready to argue and he continued, “Everyone agreed that this is the best course of action that we can take, including you.”

Shiro looked almost resentful, bordering on mutinous, and Keith knew that it wasn’t against _him_ , specifically. Rather, it was frustration born of worry that soon gave away to resignation. “I know this is the best plan that we have,” he looked tired and worn again, looking at Keith with something in his face that he didn’t recognize. Couldn’t recognize, maybe. “And I know that you’ll be careful. I trust you to be careful.”

They walked together to the others, and Keith stood alongside his mother and said his goodbyes to his team. As they moved to depart, Shiro stepped forward and embraced Keith tightly, and he returned the gesture in kind, holding on tight.

“Come back soon,” Shiro whispered against his hair.

They pulled away from each other and Keith glanced around, noting that everyone appeared to be minding their own business, before looking Shiro dead in the eyes again. “I love you,” he said calmly. It was a fact of the universe, after all. All stars become black holes and he loved Takashi Shirogane.

Shiro blinked, appearing taken aback, and his mother called for him and Keith nodded, once, before walking off.

He was distantly surprised by Shiro’s apparent shock, but didn’t have much time to think on it.

 

* * *

 

 

 _Stay with me_ , he had said.

 _Come back soon_ , he had said.

Keith assumed that the full sentence was meant to be _Come back to me, soon_. It was a safe assumption, really.

 

* * *

 

 

Almost dying gave a person perspective, or something like that.

Keith hadn’t _meant_ to end up separated from his mother and Coran and he hadn’t _meant_ to fall face-first into battle, struggling to hold his own against the numbers that they threw against him, but sometimes these things just happened.

He wasn’t positive, but was reasonably certain that his mother had returned for him and saved him from sure death, carrying him away from the imploding ship. Voltron had been involved, somewhere along the line.

Time slipped, as it often does, and by the time he maintains consciousness for a reasonable amount of time, he remains uncertain about how much time had passed. All that he was aware of was the pod and then the bed and the room and the voices around him that faded in and out on occasion. Proper alertness came back to him in a rush and Shiro was by his side, sleeping with his head pillowed on his crossed arms and a hand holding onto Keith’s. His mother sat beside Shiro, watching him closely.

Things happened rather quickly, after that.

With the assurance that Keith was alive and wouldn’t be perishing anytime soon, everyone filled him in as quickly as they could.

The plan had worked, all things considered. They had gotten Coran back and had driven the Galran army away from earth, and it seemed to be lasting reasonably well, though they were certainly still out there, regathering from their ashes. Earth was safe and everyone was alive and in one piece, and they had to decide what to do next.

Shiro became a common fixture in his room during his short recuperation period, constantly watching Keith as if he were concerned that he was going to die at any moment. The flip in their roles was disorienting for a bit. He didn’t quite have a chance to question him about it, since his mother was determined to stay near him, as well.

Constantly being watched and followed was grating on his nerves, but Keith allowed it, if only because he had done exactly the same thing to Shiro. And because she was his mother.

Wolf was another shadow of his, though that was more familiar than the others. She followed him and sat near him and slept near him, of course she did—she was his, as much as he was hers. A man and his wolf, or something like that. A wolf and her human.

It didn’t take long before Keith was cleared to his normal level of independence, and with that his mother swiftly and regretfully departed to report back to the Blade, promising to return soon.

Keith finally found himself mostly alone, standing at a large window and staring out over the Garrison. Eventually, he would probably have to make an appearance again and speak to Iverson or one of the commanders. They had gotten the story from the others, but were essentially demanding another version from their proclaimed leader. Stupid, if you asked him.

Stupider, that they weren’t taking Allura’s word.

Wolf laid near him, head on his feet, and her ears perked when Shiro walked towards them. Keith didn’t turn to look at him directly, though he glanced up at his reflection.

Shiro had already expressed his relief that Keith was alive, albeit indirectly. They hadn’t had a moment alone since, whether it was his mother with them or someone else, but Shiro had been sticking close in the moments that he could, their hands finding each other when possible. Skin to skin, skin to metal.

They stood close, nearly shoulder to shoulder, and Keith watched Shiro’s reflection watching him. A few minutes passed in silence before Shiro reached out and traced the new scar that he acquired, carving through his left eyebrow and pausing over his eye and continuing down his cheek. It caused Shiro to turn bodily towards him, thumb tracing over the raised line of it. Keith turned his head slightly into the touch, and breathed.

“I love you, too,” Shiro said quietly, privately, as if speaking too loudly would cause this bubble to pop and the world would crash back down around them.

His shoulders rotated and his hips rotated and his feet rotated as he turned and peered up at Shiro, face unintentionally blank. Shiro, too, said it as if it were a fact of the universe. The sun was a star, Keith loved Shiro, and Shiro loved him in return.

Yet the world seemed to shift beneath them.

 

* * *

 

 

This was the thing: Keith’s life and world didn’t revolve around Shiro and it didn’t depend on Shiro inherently as a part of it, but his life and world was _wrong_ without him. Keith did not and would never make his choices based purely on Shiro, and Shiro would never make Keith the center of his entire existence, either. They were a part of each other, sure as anything else in the universe, but they were equally a part of each other as they were their own.

This was the thing: when Keith was thirteen and had a chip on his shoulder the size of a small mountain and hated the world, Shiro was there to extend a hand and to change his perspective with a leading role and a warm smile that no one else had ever given him before. When Keith was well and truly alone, Shiro believed in him with a devotion that resonated in his chest. And in return, Keith believed in Shiro and stood beside him and understood him, even when the universe seemed determined to prove him wrong.

This was the thing: Keith cared for and loved Shiro and that was an unshakable fact. He had loved him ever since he was a precocious teenager and when the world believed Shiro dead and when Shiro returned to him, time and time again. Shiro had always been something significant to him, something more than a brother and something more than anybody else—to put a name to it was impossible, half the time. Sometimes brother was as close as he could get.

This was the thing: Keith wanted to protect him and support him and that was that. It was as simple as that.

This was the thing: it was as simple as that for Shiro, too.

This was the thing: sometimes feelings and perceptions changed, so subtly and quietly that it was impossible to see and impossible to acknowledge except for when confronted with it directly.

This was the thing: Keith loved Shiro. He just wasn’t sure when he had fallen in love with Shiro.

 

* * *

 

 

(Shiro kissed him that day in front of the window, soft and adoring and chaste. A dry press of their mouths, one hand cupping his cheek and his thumb tracing that new scar, and Keith stepped close and held onto one of Shiro’s shoulders, his other hand reaching out for its familiar companion. Their fingers laced, unhurried.

It was a kiss that couldn’t have lasted more than a few moments, but it felt like eons. It felt as if time had, for once and blessedly, crawled to a near-pause and the universe gave them time to find each other: again and again and again.

When they parted, it was slow and half-reluctant and Shiro smiled at him, effervescent and adoring, and Keith couldn’t help but return it.)

 

* * *

 

 

When he thought about it, Keith could maybe say that he had fallen in love with Shiro during the two years that he had spent with his mother. Or that something had changed then, at the very least.

If you were to ask Shiro, though he never did, he’d say something about it starting when Keith saved him for the second time, pulling him back from death and refusing to let go, even if it meant dying, himself.

 

* * *

 

 

In the aftermath, Team Voltron had to figure out their next course of action. So many of them had finally returned home, the place that they had yearned for during the year that they had spent in space, but there remained the problem of the Galrans. There remained the fact that the universe needed Voltron.

It was something of a surprise when everyone unanimously agreed that they would have to leave earth behind again. Though, maybe that was just Keith underestimating them still, even after all this time. They all knew that they had a duty to the universe, and they had all accepted this without pause. As long as there was still a need for Voltron, they would answer the call.

Goodbyes were said, most of them teary, and Keith watched from a distance. Until Shiro pulled him forward to properly meet his family, that is, which was an occasion in and of itself. It was rather embarrassing, in truth, but Shiro’s parents were kind and his sister was keen and Shiro swore that it went well. Being introduced as his _partner_ was the hallmark of that occasion.

Boyfriend never felt quite right. Too juvenile, too insignificant. Partner sufficed well enough.

Adam showed up to say goodbye, as well, with Rohan in tow. He and Shiro hugged tightly, whilst Keith was introduced to Rohan for the first time—which was more uncomfortable that he was willing to admit.

They had to wrest Hunk from his mother’s and sisters’ arms to leave, eventually, and when they left the earth’s orbit, Keith turned to leave the others to stare at the planet that held the majority of those they love on it.

Keith found himself sitting in Shiro’s room, which was rapidly becoming their shared room, soon after, with Wolf lying beside him as he read one of the books that they had picked up. One perk of returning to earth was getting things in a language that he could read again. Also, the food. He’d miss earth food, at the very least.

Another perk was picking up practically a year’s supply of Shiro’s favorite brand of soda from that small store in the town that they had first met in. Walking down the streets, hand in hand with Shiro, had been rather bizarre. In a good way. Bizarre, but good.

Shiro found him there, later that night, an hour or two after their departure from earth. He moved around the room unselfconsciously, changing out of his clothes into pajamas, before climbing into bed, clambering over Keith as he went. They had designated sides of the bed. The thought was so saccharinely domestic that it made Keith smile, sometimes. Their shoulders pressed together as Shiro settled himself and leaned towards Keith to read a few lines of his book with him.

“Are you sad, to be leaving?” Keith looked away from his book.

Leaning back into the pillows, Shiro considered the question seriously, staring into Keith’s eyes. “In some ways, of course I am. My parents and sister are here, after all,” he finally said, with a smile touched with sadness. “But we have a responsibility, don’t we?”

Keith nodded, once. It was an answer that he had expected, after all.

“But Earth doesn’t have everything,” Shiro continued, reaching up to comb his fingers through Keith’s hair gently, pulling him down. “It doesn’t have you.”

He found himself smiling, before their mouths met and he let the book fall closed between them.

 

* * *

 

 

Keith’s life began and ended with Takashi Shirogane.

His world didn’t revolve around him and his life didn’t revolve around him, but it began and ended with him. This life. This world. It began when a hand had fallen upon his shoulder when he had been peering jealously at a vehicle that he couldn’t have, and it had ended when he disappeared, and it began again when he was found.

Shiro didn’t give him direction or purpose, no. But he showed him the way. Anchored him. Steadied him. Believed in him, steadfastly. Stood and walked beside him. And Keith returned the favor, in the only way that he could: with dedication, with devotion, with unshakable belief.

Keith could live a life without Shiro ever having touched it. Keith could live a life where Shiro has departed from it. But he simply didn’t want to. And wasn’t that enough?

So it was an absolute truth: Keith’s life began and ended with him. The way that he loved him was an absolute truth, the way that he was loved in return was an absolute truth.

**Author's Note:**

> ( very quickly I wanted to make a note: THERE WERE NO ROMANTIC FEELINGS BETWEEN KEITH AND SHIRO WHEN KEITH WAS A MINOR, ONLY DEVOTION AND CARE. ALL DEVELOPMENT OF THEIR ROMANTIC RELATIONSHIP TOOK PLACE AFTERWORDS. thank you! )


End file.
